Closure
by mimithenumberon
Summary: When neither Anders or Fenris get Hawke where will they find comfort? After all the line between love and hate is a thin one... Warning-MATURE SEXUAL CONTENTS, M/M, Violence. Hope you like it and please review! XD


**Warning-M/M (you have been warned) X), ADULT SEXUAL CONTENTS!, slight violence, bad language**

**I hope you'll like it and please let me know what you think! I have no problem with constructive criticism, in fact i welcome it! Thank you in advance!**

**Also, i do NOT own Dragon Age or any of the characters**

_**Closure**_

Fenris swallowed heavily in an attempt to try and calm his overworking heart. He tried to twist his head in order to look in another direction, any other direction, but found that he couldn't. It was like his eyes knew that what they were seeing was tearing him inside and they refused to release him from the crushing pain.

As a warrior he had been in pain plenty of times, especially when he was a slave. But he had never felt this type of pain, or maybe he had and he couldn't remember. He didn't know how to handle the sensation of something being pressed painfully on his chest, stealing his breath and gripping his heart, squeezing the happiness out of it with every painful, drumming beat.

He had had feelings for Hawke from the moment they saw each other. He was strong and honest. He was also handsome with tall broad shoulders and a scruffy appearance. Many times Fenris found himself admiring the well-defined jaw, or the slightly tanned, olive skin. Just like humans found elves appealing because of their slender, smooth bodies, elves admired humans because of their strong build.

Hawke was a charming man who knew how to talk his way out of any situation. He knew when to flirt and when to threaten in order to get what he was looking for. Something Fenris couldn't even hope to achieve. What use was it to a slave to be charming? He was good at fighting and that was about it.

The others, especially Varric, constantly commented on his 'brooding' look. He couldn't help that he always looked slightly angry. It was the only expression he could muster. Since he could remember, every day was a constant battle, physical and mental. It was hard for him to suddenly switch from battle mode to relax mode.

His instincts were trained to be on constant alert, expecting enemies to jump from every corner and every shadow. He was constantly expecting to see the slavers threatening his freedom on Danarius' orders. He knew deep down inside that he will never be free, not until that magistrate was dead. And he planned to kill him with his own hand; a taste of his own medicine.

And still, with all this trouble hot on his heels, Hawke hadn't turned his back on him even once. From the start Hawke had extended his friendship to him and hadn't asked for anything in return. Fenris had never hoped to find such a good friend who wasn't looking out only for himself and that quality in Hawke had in turn attracted other friends.

His feelings for Hawke only grew with time and he found himself craving more than just friendship. He wanted to touch the sun-kissed skin and run his hands through the wild hair. It became unbearable, but he refused to act on those thoughts. He was afraid of Hawke's reaction. What if he was repulsed? What if he didn't want to be friends with him any longer? Fenris feared that most of all. He didn't want to be left alone again.

Three years passed and he had supressed his own desires. And now it was too late. Hawke found his love. Fenris snapped from his reminiscing and refocused his gaze towards Hawke and Merrill. His hand was wrapped protectively around her shoulders as they walked down the Hightown street. Hawk had announced their relationship a week ago at the Hanged Man. The group had gathered for celebration and they all congratulated the couple.

Even Aveline had joined them despite the fact that she was a workaholic and wasn't a big fan of the Hanged Man. That night, Fenris had been too shocked to fully understand the situation. His body had moved mechanically, congratulating and drinking in their health. Only after the party did the words sink in, and he was left in a deep state of misery.

He wasn't angry at Merrill or Hawke. Why would he be? After all he was the one that held his tongue. Why should Hawke be denied happiness because of him? No, he was happy for him, but he couldn't stop the numbing pain spreading like venom through his veins or the tears slowly rolling down his cheeks and crashing to the wooden floor of his mansion.

After one week the pain had subsided but it was still there. It was torture seeing what he wanted knowing that he could never ever claim it! With a deep breath, the elf turned in the opposite direction and started walking briskly away. He felt that the more distance he put between them the easier it would be to breathe.

He didn't think of a particular destination. His efforts were all directed at trying to calm himself. He didn't see the people that crossed his path nor did he care to. He just wanted to get away. All those feelings that he never had the freedom to even think of were all coming down on him at once and it was too much to bear; too much.

* * *

Anders took a shaky step, forgetting he had to keep hidden in the shadows. His eyes lingered on Hawke's broad back and the flicker of lust and desire stirred inside him again. That feeling that had the intensity of devastating flames and the strength of an unleashed tornado. Oh, how he craved his touch; his love.

Then his eyes moved to where Hawke's hand was; wrapped around Merrill's thin waist. Anders felt a stir inside him and, from experience, he knew it was Justice. The spirit disliked the turn of events as much as him.

The mage wished nothing but happiness for Hawke but he couldn't help but burn with jealousy inside. When Hawke announced that he loved Merrill one week ago, Anders' heart just stopped beating. He didn't stay for the celebration. He couldn't. Instead with a quick excuse about not feeling well he took his leave.

That night had been one of the hardest of his life. Due to the fact that he was a mage and the fear that everyone harbored for magic, Anders refused to allow himself to form bonds with others. He knew from his own experience that it could only end in pain; mostly for him.

Sooner or later they would turn on him, because they would fear him; especially now that he was an abomination. And that wasn't all. There was also the constant threat of the Templars. The constant running and hiding. Even if he found someone, they surely wouldn't trade their lives to be with an outlaw such as himself.

Then Hawke came. Anders remembered the way he strolled into his clinic looking for his maps of the Deep Roads. His first impression of him was that he was a threat, just another Fereldan who intended to imprison him or exploit his services. Boy was he wrong.

Hawke was one of the few that didn't get bothered by the fact that he was a mage. Granted his sister was one, but still, it made Anders happy to be accepted. And then he found out about Justice. At the time Anders was certain Hawke would turn his back on him, maybe even try to kill him. He didn't.

His admiration for the wild man grew larger with each passing day. Hawke was always just to all who crossed his path, mages, nobles, criminals, rich or poor. And he wasn't the only one to fall under his spell. Over time others joined his circle of friends, all drawn in by Hawke's bravery and leadership.

Before he knew it, Anders was surrounded by people whom he could trust and who trusted him. Three years ago he couldn't even begin to imagine that one day there would be others who knew what he was and still trust him. All thanks to Hawke.

Anders swallowed the knot forming in his throat. He couldn't help it. He loved him. And he couldn't have him. Since the moment he realized he had feelings for the other man he had denied himself even the thought of telling the warrior. After all, he was a monster. He would rather die than risk hurting the one he cared for.

Why was fate so cruel? He simply stepped out that evening to get some fresh air, and just then and at that place he had to see Hawke. Why? It was hard enough accepting that he will most probably be alone for the rest of his life, without the Maker waving the subject of his desires in front of him but still out of his reach.

Anders retreated into the shadows and let his lingering eyes drift away. He could feel the tears threatening to spill, but he had no wish to cry. He bit painfully on his lower lip and ran away.

The sun was already gone and most of the streets were empty. Any lingering souls were most likely drunks or homeless refugees. None paid any attention to a running, scruffy, poor looking apostate. Even if they did it was obvious that he had nothing worth stealing.

Anders felt the night wind slashing at his skin like frozen whips, merciless and cold. He felt his body become heavier with each step. With each street corner he turned, he felt his mind slowly drifting away and the pain receding bit by bit. Just the idea of putting more distance between himself and Hawke was making it easier for him to breathe.

With a deep gulp of air, Anders turned another corner. His vision was suddenly blocked and he found himself being thrown backwards. He attempted to make a hasty apology while he used one hand to massage his throbbing temple.

'Sorry. I wasn't looking-…'

The rest was never said. When Anders opened his eyes he was expecting to see a drunk, not him. The one person he had no wish to even think of. He had absolutely no energy to deal with the close minded elf.

'What the hell are you doing here?'

The mage could feel his emotions turning to anger. It was a bitter combination, loss and anger. A combination Fenris was feeling as well. Great! A mage, and Anders at that. Just when he was certain his day couldn't get any worse, fate had to step in and prove him wrong.

'Last time I checked, the streets didn't belong to you.'

The two were practically growling at each other, their rage clear in their voices. After all, the line between love and hate was a thin and fragile one. Both of them were aching to jump at the other and take all their frustration on them.

'I don't have time for your mindless shit. Just get out of my way.'

Both men were on their feet and tense. Anders stepped forward and intended to make his way past the elf, but never did. He felt the punch make hard contact with his jaw and blood filling his mouth. He managed to stop himself from crashing to the pavement again by quickly grabbing the brick wall.

'Don't test my patience, mage! For some reason, I can't comprehend, Hawke trusts you and that's the only reason I didn't kill you yet. I'm not stupid enough to trust a two-faced abomination!'

Anders flashed him a look of pure hatred before he returned the favour and aimed a punch at Fenris. However, it was easily blocked.

'Ha! You really think a weakling like you can hurt me in a fist fight?'

'Then I should even the fields a little!'

Anders smirked and let the magic drift through him. Blue light engulfed his palms and Fenris was thrown backwards. He was stunned for only a second. Both of them were glaring and grinding their teeth at each other. The markings on Fenris' skin were lighting up. Likewise Anders' eyes were beginning to glow.

'And here it is! The true face of the abomination!'

'And I guess tearing a beating heart from its chest would make you a saint?'

They both launched at the other simultaneously. Luckily neither of them was armed or else there would have been a very high probability they would have killed each other in the struggle. Still they made a good attempt to achieve that nonetheless.

They punched and kicked, forgetting their training and battle experience. Their instincts were completely taking over. All they wanted was to see the other bleed. In their mad struggle Fenris kicked Anders hard in the gut and he crashed into a wooden door, sending splinters flying everywhere.

The house was old and abandoned and hadn't been used in months. In seconds, Fenris was upon the dazed apostate. His weight was suspended on his knees, preventing Anders from moving an inch.

It took him a second, but Anders came to his senses. When he opened his eyes he was surprised to see a pair of green ones looking back. He had never paid any attention to the bad-tempered elf before and was shocked to admit that he had beautiful eyes. His anger was forgotten for the time being.

Fenris was also taken by surprise. The mage, looking up at him, had a strange expression. He looked confused and curious. Unwillingly, Fenris found himself drawn towards the golden eyes, like a flower towards the sun.

His breath caught in his throat when he realized how close he was to Anders. Close enough to feel his heat. He didn't get any closer, but he didn't pull away either. He wasn't sure of what to do next.

Instead, Anders took the initiative. He raised himself on his elbows slightly and swiftly, locking lips with Fenris. The touch of lips sent a current through the two men replacing the blood in their veins with raw electricity. Fenris responded and pushed himself against Anders forcing his head back on the floor.

It wasn't a tender, loving kiss. Just another kind of forceful battle. It was filled with raw want. Fenris used his teeth to bite painfully on Anders' lower lip, drawing blood. The elf lapped at the crimson drops, before ravishing Anders' mouth again.

He didn't give a fig for the mage's comfort. Instead he plunged his tongue deep inside the fleshy opening, exploring to his heart's content, and enjoying the opposition he faced from the other male.

Anders wasn't going to give in without a good fight. Inside him he was holding against making any sound that may betray the fact that he was actually enjoying this. Whenever he could he used his own tongue to try and push the intruding one out.

While they were kissing, Fenris ran his steel gauntlets across the other's chest, leaving stinging, angry, red marks. Anders winced from the sensation, but he couldn't help but be turned on a bit.

Finally, Fenris couldn't take it anymore. He broke the kiss abruptly and looked into Anders' golden eyes. No words had to be said. It was clear what they both wanted. When Fenris saw the mocking approval shining through the golden orbs, he let a low threatening smirk escape his lips.

In his mind nobody could replace Hawke. He respected and trusted him. The apostate mage would never have his approval. This act was just a way for both of them to vent their anger and frustration at each other and also a way to forget the pain in their hearts even if just for a night.

Fenris all but ripped the belts that were fastened around Anders' waist. Then he used his armored fingers to tear the robe off of his chest, revealing the clear, soft skin underneath. He took a moment to look at the man under him.

He ran his eyes across the exposed body, liking what he saw. Only Anders' arms were still covered by the coat. Red trails could be seen, running from his neck to his bellybutton from when Fenris had clawed his way down the sensitive skin.

The elf swallowed quietly. He had never anticipated that the mage he most despised in their circle of friends, could be so sexy. Granted he had never been interested to look. Now that he saw the clouding vision, the full, panting lips, the slightly reddening cheeks, Fenris was beginning to feel that craving stir inside him.

He wanted nothing more than to reduce Anders to a begging, ravished mess. Anger was beginning to take over again. Or was it passion? In a flash Fenris discarded his protective breast plate, and using his teeth, he got rid of the gauntlets as well.

Now that there was nothing on him that could cause Anders any serious injury, he was free to press his body against him and get better access at the exposed neck. Anders clenched his teeth to stop himself from screaming. The attack was sudden and very effective.

Without thinking the mage twisted his head, giving Fenris more room. It was hard for him to breathe, since one of the runaway slave's hands was pressed painfully on his abdomen.

A low moan did come out when Fenris closed his lips around his flesh, sucking at the skin and bruising it, leaving a red and purple mark. In response, the elf chuckled softly before working on another mark just like the other one.

When he was done with the second one too, he started to move his head further down the trembling body, grazing it with his teeth. When he stopped moving, he decided to concentrate on another sensitive area.

Anders had to place his hand over his mouth, to stop himself from moaning with pleasure. Fenris licked the pink, sensitive nipple, lightly, and then without warning of any kind bit it. Not bad enough to make it bleed but harder than a pinch.

His hand was giving the other pink piece of flesh just as much attention. From the moans Anders was making, Fenris gathered that he was easily turned on by small amounts of pain.

Then another thought entered the elf's mind. Was all this new to Anders? And if so, a better question was: Was all this new to him? Since he could remember he had not done this highly intimate act with anyone else. He had always been afraid of letting anyone too close , not that most wanted to anyway. But despite this, his hands, his lips and his body moved as if this was the most natural thing, as if it had a mind of its own.

Without thinking, his hand moved down past the more sensitive skin of the stomach and forcefully pressed on the raised hips, until it reached the rough texture of cloth. With a defiant thug, Fenris pulled the trousers off and raised himself from the quivering body just long enough to discard them to one side on the cold, wooden floor.

What had started as a battle was quickly turning into something else. The rage and hatred that had originally fueled their interaction died away, like a flame without oxygen. Where once there was only grief now there was a sort of pleasure. Raw, wild, ecstatic pleasure.

Now that he was completely naked, Anders started feeling self-conscious. Especially since the other man had done nothing or said nothing for a while now. He began to wonder if Fenris was having second thoughts or maybe it he was the one doing something wrong. His mind raced with possibilities and worries.

The thought of having to end this was agonising. It would be too cruel to arouse him to such a state and then to just leave him. He couldn't deny that he wanted this to continue. He wanted to keep feeling Fenris' cool touch on his burning skin. He wanted to keep feeling the smoldering sensation that formed at the pit of his stomach whenever their lips touched. He wanted him. He needed him.

In truth Fenris was not repulsed and certainly didn't want to stop. That's precisely the reason why he did just that. The new idea confused him. Anders was supposed to be nothing more than a diversion, a way to take his mind off Hawke.

And somehow he found himself in a predicament where he wanted to please Anders. He felt good, but it wasn't just that. It was something more, something he couldn't explain or put into words. This was more than just sex. It was more than a physical thing.

'What is it?...' Somehow Anders managed to find his voice and the courage to ask. Fenris' anxious gaze was unsettling.

The weak voice filled with lust woke the elf from his drifting thoughts. What was he doing? This wasn't the time to think. And even if he did, he already knew that no matter what his answer may be he wouldn't be able to stop. He craved the warmth of the other body too badly. His hunger intensified when he saw the same desires and confusions mirrored in the other pair of eyes looking up at him.

'Just deciding what to do next.'

Before Anders could question it further, Fenris threw his own clothes to the crumbled pile in a fluent motion. The mage felt his breath catch in his throat. The markings that had caused so much grief looked so good on the slender body, but he knew better than to say that.

Lips were locked again, with more strength, bringing new sensations to the act, like static spiders crawling on the bare skin. Anders ached for Fenris to continue, to take it to the next step.

Sensing the apostate's discomfort, Fenris plunged his tongue deeper, taking the other's mind from where his hand was moving. Anders broke the kiss and gasped, before he moaned loudly.

Slow, teasing strokes at first, moving the thin fingers around the shaft of the sensitive organ. Then tracing it, painfully slow and moving the hand up and down. It didn't take long until Anders was ready to beg for things to speed up.

Precisely what Fenris wanted. Satisfied with what Anders had been reduced to, he decided to please him and sped up his movement.

It was impossible for Anders to keep his voice in anymore. He didn't want to or cared to. He arched his back on the rough, rigid wood allowing the pleasure to sweep over him.

Fenris was hypnotized by the sight in front of him. His hand moved as if independent from his body. He saw how the pleasure built inside Anders until he was ready to burst. That's when he stopped. It wasn't yet time for the mage to feel the sweet relief of release.

Anders whined and looked up at Fenris with confusion. The elf smirked and bent down for another quick kiss. This calmed Anders a little but it was hard to be content with only this after tasting something so much better.

After a few possessive kisses on the neck, Fenris held his fingers to Anders' mouth. The instructions were clear and Anders obeyed. He opened his mouth invitingly and allowed three digits to be pushed in.

Once inside, he used his tongue to swirl around them, licking and sucking making sure that they were properly coated. Fenris was transfixed. It amazed him how such a simple action could be so arousing. As Anders moaned he could feel vibrations running through the tip of his fingers.

When he felt there was enough moisture to make the next step as painless as possible, Fenris withdrew the fingers. Anders followed the hand, with a hungry gaze as it moved. When it disappeared from his line of vision, he turned his attention to Fenris who was still looking, as if under a spell, back at him.

For a second, time stood still. No sound was heard, no breath was taken. Both were lost in seas of gold and forests of greens.

Anders was the one to break the spell. He gasped softly and tensed his muscles, feeling the sudden invasion. Since the finger was properly prepared, the process was relatively painless, but still highly uncomfortable. It felt strange, alien but natural in a way. It didn't feel wrong.

Sensing the reluctance in Fenris, Anders tried to relax his muscles and allow easier access. This wasn't his first time after all. He knew how to ease the elf in while still allowing him to be in full control.

Fenris had indeed faltered. So far his hands seemed to move on their own, as if conscious of what would please Anders and how to do it. Now he found himself at a standstill. He knew what it was that he had to do but he wasn't sure if he was doing it right.

However when he felt the mage relax, his courage sprang back up. He brought his finger half-way out and then thrust in with rapid movements. Soon, Anders was accustomed to the sensation and Fenris added a second finger.

It was still not painful, which was a relief. Fenris observed Anders' expressions while trying to find the magic spot. He twisted his fingers and pushed at different angles. He was getting close. Anders was starting to enjoy the repeated movements.

Then Fenris hit the place. With a sudden twist, Anders felt his vision blur and his mind go blank. The pleasure was so unexpected that it was impossible for Anders to keep quiet.

'Ah!...There! Do it again….'

Fenris smirked at the apostate, relishing his reaction. Now that he knew how to drive him mad it was only a matter of time before Anders was ready. When the third digit was added to the other two Anders winced.

It wasn't excruciatingly painful, it stung, but that was quickly forgotten. The pleasure overwhelmed the pain. Fenris watched as Anders was ready again.

He bent down for another passionate, long kiss. Anders wrapped his hands around his neck, drawing him closer. While they were kissing, Fenris positioned himself, and used his hands to gently spread Anders' legs.

He pushed, refusing to break the kiss. Anders tightened his hold and moaned, his voice thick with lust. When he was a quarter in, Fenris rammed himself all the way making Anders clench his fists and scream in agony.

Fenris stopped for a second to let him get used to the feeling. He was aware that it was painful but he also knew that taking it slowly would only lengthen the suffering. It was better to do it fast and get over it. Then the fun part could start.

When Fenris moved again, slowly out and fast in, Anders had to bite back shrill screams. It felt like something was tearing him from the inside, slowly and mercilessly. Tears built in the corners of his eyes and spilled on the floor.

It took a while before pleasure was felt. After repeating the thrusts, slowly Anders got accustomed to the sensation. Then Fenris hit the spot again and it was the most amazing thing.

Anders wasn't sure what was happening, or how much time passed. His heart seemed to drum dangerously fast, and he didn't seem to be able to fill his lungs with air. All he could think of was the heat that was scorching his body with every push.

Fenris was also feeling it. He couldn't have imagined that he was capable of feeling so good. Even if he wanted to stop it would be impossible for him to do so. His body moved, increasing the speed, entering the opened mage bellow him.

His voice come out in ragged gasps with each thrust, meeting Anders' moans and buckling hips. Their voices mixed in a symphony of passion, filling the abandoned walls with noise. They didn't care if they were found out. For the moment the whole world died around them.

Anders' entire body seemed to spasm as he felt himself approaching climax. His muscles burned and inside he was begging for release. His throat was hoarse from all the noise he was making.

Fenris was also near, and his thrusts became faster and harder, pushing into Anders with all his force. He felt the walls closing around him. He felt Anders' muscles tense and relax at just the right moments, making him go wild.

Anders tried to grip the wood, leaving scratch marks with his finger nails. A minute more and he was at the edge of the cliff, falling over in an ocean of pleasure. With one final cry, Anders came, raising his hips and spine off the floor.

Fenris pulled out as soon as Anders was satisfied and came all over Anders' hot stomach. They both rode the orgasm until the last trace of it was gone. Anders lay there panting, his muscles exhausted from the work-out.

He slowly and gingerly opened his eyes, as if afraid that if he did so everything would turn out to be part of a dream. That wasn't the case, and when he looked up, Fenris met his gaze.

Anders felt like he could lose himself in the two pools of emeralds. He felt darkness closing around him and his eyelids getting heavier. He felt warm, comfortable and safe. He let the dreams take him and he imagined himself running through dense forests of striking green.

* * *

Rays of sunlight were seeping through the holes of the moth-eaten curtains. The soft warmth was licking at Anders' skin, making him feel cozy all over. He didn't want to have to open his eyes. He felt too comfortable.

His mind wandered off, and the other night came back to him. Fenris. His eyes snapped open and looked all around , searching for some sign of the escaped slave, but found none.

Noise could be heard from outside the door. The street ,which had been empty the night before, was quickly filling with people hurrying to begin their new day. Then something else made Anders wonder.

He distinctly remembered the door being wide open when he drifted off to sleep, and yet now it was closed. It sounded stupid, but he couldn't repress a smile. He was grateful that Fenris had the decency to close it. He wouldn't have liked to wake up, naked, with a bunch of strangers looking.

Only that he wasn't naked. His coat was covering him, which explained the warmth. When he looked at himself he was also surprised to discover that he wasn't dirty. Had Fenris gone through the trouble of cleaning him?

Anders lay there for a moment running things through his head. What did this mean? Why would he care? Where was he? Was he thinking over this?

Realizing that all the questions did nothing except leave him with a drumming head ache, he resolved to get dressed and visit his clinic. He would deal with Fenris later. He just had no idea how that would happen…..

* * *

It didn't happen. Every time Anders was meeting the others, or they would hang out at The Hanged Man, Fenris was never there. Was he avoiding him? No, that couldn't be it. Anders couldn't even begin to imagine Fenris as shy or even caring, not towards him.

He was wondering if maybe he should go to him at his mansion but then thought against it. Clearly Fenris considered him nothing more than a one-night fling. But what was really getting to him was that he couldn't stop thinking about him.

He found himself recalling images. Images he didn't want to remember. The hot sensation, the unbelievable pleasure and most of all the burning eyes. He found his dreams haunted by emerald forests.

And the strangest thing was the way he looked at Hawke differently. When he followed him with his eyes, the pain was so much more bearable. When he talked to him he didn't feel like reaching up and ripping his own heart out. It was such a relief. But now his thoughts were filled with Fenris. Was that any better?

His heart was starting to beat fast again. He needed to stop thinking of him and of that stupid night. His body started working mechanically, preoccupying himself with taking care of his clinic.

The scent of sweet and fresh herbs filled his nostrils. It was mixed with a bitter aroma. Anders automatically recognized it as the smell of dried blood. Even after scrubbing every inch of the room, the odor still remained.

It was late in the night and he didn't have any more patients. Still, as a healer he had to be constantly ready for any emergency. Sure enough the heavy, wooden door creaked as it was pushed open.

Anders looked up from his work, wondering who it could be at such late hour. Isabela strolled into the room, with her swaggering yet enticing steps and her eyes twinkling with glee. She was always in a good mood, but Anders knew that her eyes only shone like that when she was about to stir some trouble.

'Well, well, well. If it isn't my favourite client. What brings you here Isabela?' Isabela's smile widened at the carefully hidden insult. Of all the people she knew, she had to admit she liked Anders' sarcastic and joking attitude the best.

'Can't I just come here because I want to see you?' She put on a puppy cute face and batted her eyelashes. But Anders knew better than to fall into that trap.

'I know you Isabela. What do you want?' Isabela put on a hurt face as if shocked at the accusation.

'Oh, my wounded heart. But you're right. I have some…..inquiries.' She paced around the room in silence for a bit as if contemplating her next words, but Anders knew she was just giving him time to wonder and try to anticipate the upcoming conversation.

'You slept with someone.' It wasn't a question.

Isabela wasn't pacing anymore but turned and faced the stunned mage. Her smile went even further turning into a wide triumphant grin. No wonder all men and women went for the thief captain. She was an incredibly beautiful woman who was well capable of using everything around her to her advantage.

'Wha-what do you mean?' That's the best Anders managed to get out of himself. He thought he had hidden it pretty well. He didn't want the others to know and he wasn't sure why. He wanted to understand what had happened before others jumped to conclusions.

'How cute. You think you can hide the sweet evidence of sex from me? Just who do you think I am? I have a reputation to keep, you know.'

'I…..don't know what you mean.' Anders tried to feign ignorance but it was quite obvious that the exotic temptress wouldn't be fooled easily.

'Hmmmm. Two mornings ago you were walking with a slight limp.'

'I injured myself.'

'How?'

'…..I fell down some stairs. Accidents happen all the time.' It was a crap excuse, and Anders knew that, but nothing else came to him. Isabela loved this game of cat and mouse and she laughed briefly in anticipation.

'Ok. Let's say that's true. What about those blazing red spots on your neck?'

Anders widened his eyes in surprise and one of his hands flew to his neck. As soon as he did that, he realized he played right into Isabela's plan. He remembered hiding the red marks with magic the day before.

Isabela laughed with triumph. The game was over. As usual she won. That's why she loved this game, because she always won.

'So…who was it?' Anders let a sigh out. He knew better than to make such a stupid mistake.

'I don't see how this is any of your business.' Of course she had been expecting the hostility. Not everyone was happy to share information about their private life like she was.

'Well then, how about you tell me if I'm right? Just one thing, was this person someone from our group of friends?' Anders was silent, wondering whether he should answer or not.

'….Yes. But that's all I'm saying!'

'That's all I need. It was Fenris. Judging by your expression I'm right.'

Anders' mouth was wide open but no words came out. Isabela chuckled at the silly face he was making. Was he expecting any less from her? She was never wrong about things like these, and she was proud of that.

'How did you-?'

'Well it was obvious. There are nine people in the group. It couldn't be you or me which leaves us with seven. Merrill and Hawk are out since they're together. Sebastian has his Chantry vows and Bethany is in the circle. Aveline is, well, Aveline. That leaves us with Fenris and Varric. And Varric was with me that night. He had some funny stories.'

Anders was overwhelmed by her logic. But if she knew, then did that mean the others also knew?

'Do the others know?'

'Goodness no! Well maybe Varric, but he won't say anything. He's fun that way.'

The mage exhaled with relief. He didn't realize that he was holding his breath. He was starting to become frustrated. Why the hell did he care so much? Fenris clearly didn't give a shit so why should he?

'I thought you were interested in Hawke. Are you over him?' Anders wasn't even surprised that Isabela knew about his feelings.

'That has nothing to do with it. Besides, Hawke is with Merrill now.'

'That's true. Sadly, Hawke is the sort of man who believes in love and wouldn't betray Merrill. Trust me, I've tried. But you don't look at Hawke the same.'

'What do you mean?' Despite himself he was curious to see what Isabela had to say. She sighed and rolled her eyes as if she was trying to explain something obvious to a child.

'I mean... before, every time Hawke turned his back you would follow him with that hurt look in your eyes as if he would disappear and never come back. Now you still have that hurt look but it doesn't seem like you're about to kill yourself. Tell me if I'm wrong.'

'…..No. But why?'

'Maker help us. Is this really so hard? You wanted Hawke, but couldn't have him. The reason why you had sex with Fenris was out of frustration. Since you couldn't have Hawke, you had to vent all your sexual tension on someone else. Where was I when I was needed? And since you got rid of that, you don't feel as strongly about Hawke so you can finally move on. Understood?'

Everything Isabela said made insanely good sense. That explained one thing, which only left Fenris to deal with. Too bad Isabela didn't know about that as well. No, Anders knew that the only one who could find the answer to that was himself.

'Can I just ask one more question?'

'I don't see why not? It's not like you won't ask if I say no.'

'Oh, you know me so well.' Suddenly she became serious, which was very unusual. 'How do you feel about Fenris?'

Whatever he expected it wasn't that. Anders opened his mouth to say he felt nothing towards the constantly angry elf, but found it physically impossible. He hated him. He had to! Fenris was everything he despised walking on two feet! So why couldn't he say it?

'I don't know…..' Anders expected Isabela to press on but she seemed satisfied with his answer. She only showed her perfectly white teeth in her signature smile.

'That's fine. I was just curious.'

'Well, thanks…..I think. You've given me a lot to think about.'

'Always happy to help.' Isabela took a swift mock bow, before turning and strolling out in her unique way.

* * *

Isabela made her way out of the clinic. She was careful to close the heavy door after her. Wouldn't want to be overheard.

'Are you satisfied?' She was standing tall with her hands on her hips. A form emerged from the shadows. Fenris stretched his legs. It was impossible to read his expression at that moment.

'I….Thank you. I'll find a way to repay you for this.'

'Lighten up! It was fun, or else I wouldn't have done it. But you can pay me back with a round of drinks at the Hanged Man.' Fenris chuckled, relieved.

'It's as good as done. The next round's on me.'

'Good to hear that! I'll make sure to be extra thirsty that night.'

Fenris knew she wasn't joking. He watched her back as she descended down the dusty stairs, lightly jumping over a body. Fenris reckoned he was drunk or dead. In Darktown both were valid possibilities.

'Oh, one more thing. Make sure to tell me everything.' And with that Isabela was out of sight. She was clearly referring to Anders. Anders.

Fenris punched the wall with all his strength. He hated that abomination. He wanted to rip him to pieces after beating him senseless. Anders was a mage. He hated magic most of all in this world. Magic had tainted and destroyed everything he had.

Fenris saw first-hand what Magisters were capable of doing to fuel their greed. He was sure that Anders was no different if he was given the opportunity. After all he had already made a deal with a demon.

He hated him. And it was driving him mad. Three days and he still couldn't get the mage out of his head. His thoughts kept drifting back to that one night. And the irritating part was that he didn't hate _it_. His emotions were all jumbled up and contradicting each other.

Every time he recalled the night, he found himself aching for that feeling again. He wanted to feel the warmth of Anders' skin and hear his voice. He dreamed about him instead of Hawke.

Just thinking about this made him grind his teeth in anger. Isabela came to his mansion the day before. She said she was bored and since nobody wanted to go drinking, she was hoping to get Fenris to accompany her. After all drinking was more fun when there were more.

Surprisingly, Fenris found her company soothing. He liked the way she seized the day and she didn't care about anyone else. She was capable of being compassionate too, though most people just considered her a dirty whore who would sleep with anyone.

Fenris wasn't in the mood to go to the inn but they drank at his mansion instead. What better time to waste Danarius' wine. That's how she got him talking. He hadn't been excessively drunk, but Isabela was a master at making people talk using only her charm.

She was already pretty certain he had slept with Anders but this way she confirmed it, straight from the horse's mouth. He was honest with her because he knew he could trust her. Maybe because she was such a questionable person, he was able to trust her as much as Hawke.

Isabela told him to confront Anders and see what the mage thought about it. He didn't want to, so she did it for him. Honestly, Fenris wasn't sure how it came to _that_. He was too drunk to remember that part of the evening clearly.

But he did remember one thing Isabela said. She said that the reason he kept thinking about Anders was because he was developing feelings for him. That's why he was trying so hard to convince himself he hated Anders.

But that was impossible. Anders was everything he hated. How could he feel anything but loathing towards him? But he couldn't deny that he couldn't stop thinking about him. This only infuriated him more. His mind was racing in never ending circles.

And now he knew Anders' side of the story. Fenris clenched his fists and followed Isabela's trail, leaving the smell of herbs and dried blood behind him.

* * *

Anders opened his eyes with a start. His back and neck were stiff from dozing off in a rigid wooden chair. He got on his feet feeling a bit dizzy from the lack of sleep, and stretched his arms behind his back to get some blood flowing.

After Isabela left, his mind worked furiously, thoughts buzzing around his brain like bees trapped in a jar. One idea in particular was giving him a lot of trouble. Why hadn't he been able to say that he felt nothing for Fenris when Isabela asked?

Sometime, hours later, he drifted off to sleep. That night he had no dream. He had been too exhausted for that or maybe he just didn't remember. This whole Fenris business was getting out of hand and Anders was getting exasperated with the whole thing.

A shrill scream made him jump slightly. Fights and even deaths were not uncommon in Darktown. Anders frowned. It was too early in the morning for this and he was in no mood to deal with a bunch of idiots fighting over something stupid, like an empty bottle or piece of cloth.

Then another scream was heard. Something told Anders that this wasn't just any ordinary fight between drunks. He took his staff from where it was lying on the floor. With fast and silent steps he made his way to the heavy set door.

'TEMPLARS!'

Someone screamed the word as a warning, just as Anders was about to open the door. Great! Templars were exactly what he wanted to deal with. Of course he knew what they were after but he still hoped it wasn't him. He pressed his ear against the door and listened attentively.

Voices could be heard. It was hard to make out the words but not impossible. Anders held his breath so that he was surrounded by absolute silence. A man was talking in a rough, sneering voice.

'We know he's here! Anyone who protects him will join him at the Gallows. Where's the apostate? Where's Anders?'

Well that answered his question. It was only a matter of time until the Templars meddled in his business again. He had to do something because those brutes wouldn't think twice about killing the people around them, claiming that they were protecting him.

However he was in a real predicament. He couldn't use his magic on the Templars. He might as well sign his own death sentence instead. The only reason they had left him alone until now was because they considered him relatively harmless. All bark and no bite.

'You're going to kill him? He's done nothing wrong! He helps us-'

Anders recognised the voice as belonging to a woman he healed in the past. She still visited sometimes, bringing flowers to brighten up the place. She was a caring lady and Anders had never seen her without a gentle smile on her face.

He swore under his breath and nearly stormed out. The death cry was unmistakable. Just because she had spoken on his behalf they killed her; in cold blood. Anders could feel the spirit inside him stirring as his hatred for the Templars awakened it.

'Anyone else care to say something? How 'bout you boy? Tell me where the mage is or you'll join the bitch on the floor!'

'No! Please! I'm just a kid. I don't know!'

Anders recognised this voice too. A young boy no older than twelve. He had two younger sisters and no parents. Sometimes they came to Anders and he would feed them or give them nice smelling herbs. He was a good kid and didn't deserve to die.

'That's enough out of you! Tell me where he is brat!' Anders tensed as he heard the boy cry out in pain. The Templar must have hit him in the jaw or in the gut.

'Honestly sir….I don't know…' The boy was struggling to speak between breaths.

Anders was touched by the boy's conviction not to say where he was. He thought it was stupid but brave. A combination he was well accustomed with. He thought of a plan. He needed a distraction. He wanted the Templars to chase him and forget about the crowd.

Masterfully he summoned his magic to the tips of his fingers. The crystalline ice engulfed his hand and moved up his fingers. Before the Templars could do any more harm he released the magic, aiming it as close to them as possible without harming the innocents.

Where the magic hit, ice rose from the ground looking both beautiful and dangerous. The impact was sudden and unexpected making the people and the Templars duck for cover. In the confusion the boy was dropped and Anders was relieved to see him scurrying for safety.

From the corner of his eyes Anders saw the Templars coming in his direction. Their swords rose threateningly, catching the light as they were moved, the same as the shiny silver armors. He didn't want to stay and say hello, so he turned and ran to the end of the room.

He had a hidden escape tunnel just for this sort of occasion. In his haste he didn't close the small square door behind him. He crawled on all four, keeping low so he could fit. Knowing the rigid armor that the knights wore, he was certain they wouldn't fit.

He grinned to himself as his suspicion was confirmed. He heard the same man as before swear loudly before he barked orders at the others. He must have been a lieutenant. They would probably try to run around and catch him.

They were stupid if they thought they could catch him on his home territory. He had made it his business to know each and every passage in Darktown, for when he would be forced to run for his life. He hated the way he had to hide and run like a rat but facing them now was just plain suicidal.

Once back in the open, he ran twisting in narrow passages and up flights of stairs then down again intending to make it impossible for them to find him. Finally sure that he lost them he allowed himself a quick stop so he could draw his breath.

'I think he went over here! Don't let him get away!'

Anders' heart stopped beating. How was this possible? How did they find him so quick? Anders darted his look around him. There was no hiding place. And there was only one way out of this tunnel. He had backed himself into a corner.

As the hostile voices got nearer, Anders was afraid. He didn't want to go back to the Circle. He dreaded that more than death. If the Templars would push him he wasn't sure if he would resist getting violent. And if he did that there was no chance at all that he wouldn't be hanged.

He took a few unsteady steps back, nearing the wall. His hand was ready to grab his staff. If he was going down, he would take a few of those bastards with him. His expression was set in grim determination.

'He has nowhere to run! We got him!'

Anders could see their shadow, ugly and menacing against the sandy ground. He took one more step back and then he felt himself being pulled to the ground. A hand wrapped itself around his mouth muffling any sound, while another hand encircled his waist dragging him down. He was pulled into a narrow passage out of immediate sight. It was so narrow that Anders had completely missed it at first.

There wasn't enough space for him to turn and see who it was that was holding him down. He couldn't ask either as the hand was still tightly clasped over his mouth. But he knew who it was even so. He recognised the smell, the feel of the velvety skin and the long fingers.

His heart beat furiously and his body completely froze. He could see the shadow on the floor in front of him. If the Templers kept moving towards them, they would see them. As one more step was taken, Anders tried to make himself even smaller, pushing against the body behind him as if hoping to become one with the shadows.

The arms around him tensed and closed around him even more, drawing him closer. Fenris could feel the mage's heartbeat. It was beating so hard, that he wondered whether it would simply burst out of his chest.

The shadow of the Templar hovered there for a moment. A seemingly endless moment, before it turned around. The Templar ordered the others to keep looking before he followed them, running in the other direction.

Anders breathed in relief and closed his eyes, realizing how close he was to getting caught. His tensed muscles relaxed melting into the other shape. The sturdy limbs around him didn't relax their grip, but Fenris relaxed as well.

When it was clear that the enemy was gone, Anders emerged from the hiding place timidly. Fenris followed. No words were said. Anders scanned the way around them, just in case they were still lying in wait.

During this time, Fenris held back and was content just looking at the mage. He finally decided to talk to him. When he neared the clinic he saw the Templars and he guessed they were after him. After Anders used his distraction and ran away it was difficult to find him.

Fenris knew that the Templars wouldn't be able to catch him. He was well aware that Anders knew Darktown better than anyone. But then he saw the man who seemed to be in charge smirk and he knew something was amiss.

One of the Templars must have been well accustomed to the passages. That explained why they were able to keep up with Anders and find him so quick. Fenris found him by pure accident. He had no idea where half the paths led but he knew that he couldn't just stand back and do nothing.

And all the time he was chasing after the mage, he wondered why he was doing it. Why was he risking his life for someone he hated? Anders was still facing away from him, scanning the surroundings. The elf clenched his fists and decided to just end this.

In three quick steps he was beside Anders and before he could say anything, Fenris grabbed his hand. He started leading Anders away, taking fast strides, dragging Anders behind him.

'Wait! What are you doing? Where are you taking me?'

Fenris didn't even turn back. He kept placing decisive step in front of decisive step. He tightened his hold on the mage's hand, making him wince.

'Fenris?...'

Anders decided not to question it any further. There was no point. Clearly Fenris had no intention of telling him anything, so all he could do was just go with it. After all he did own him a huge favour. He let himself be led away, happy to put as much distance between himself and the Templars as possible.

* * *

Fenris led Anders through Kirkwall, bringing him to his mansion in Hightown. All this time Anders had been lost in his own thoughts, not even noticing where he was going. He trusted Fenris not to lead him into a ditch or something.

When he came face to face with the mansion he turned to Fenris with questioning eyes. The elf didn't look back, but instead opened the door and stepped inside. Once the mage was inside as well, Fenris let go of his hand.

Anders stepped forward drinking the sight in. He had never been in Fenris' mansion before and he was amazed at how big it was. It was poorly kept and it was clear that the elf didn't care about cleaning or tidying, unfortunately. He could fit his whole clinic in one of the dozens of rooms.

Fenris rested his back against the wall beside the door. He had brought Anders here so he could finally confront him and go back to hating him. Only it wasn't that easy. Now that he had him in his reach all he could think of was how he wanted to rip his clothes off, push him against a wall and fuck him until he would lose his mind.

Fenris shook his head, clearing his mind. Anders was still looking around, mesmerised. The escaped slave sighed softly and wondered how he should do this. He knew what he had to do but had no idea how to do it.

Anger welled up inside him. He closed the door with a loud bang, making Anders jump. He spun around to face Fenris, who was not leaning by the wall anymore. His eyes were glaring intently back at him, as if looking through him.

Anders heart stopped for a second time that day. But this time it wasn't out of fear, not the usual kind. When the slave advanced a step he found himself backing off. The thing he feared most was that Fenris would hate him.

'I detest you. I hate everything about you and everything you do. If it wasn't for Hawke, I would gladly rip your heart out right now.'

His anger was so vivid that it seemed to physically burn Anders. His body froze. When Fenris advanced again he couldn't find the strength to move back. It was like the cruel words numbed his limbs.

What had he expected? He knew that the elf hated him with all his being, so it wasn't like he was surprised by his words. Still, it hurt so badly. Fenris might as well have ripped out his heart; the pain couldn't be greater.

Fenris held back a relieved smile. His expression was still set in his angry scowl. It was cruel but this way he got his question answered. Even if Anders didn't admit it, or maybe he wasn't even aware of it, he didn't want to have to leave. His kicked-puppy expression was undeniable proof.

One more step and they were within kissing distance. Anders' golden eyes mirrored pure sadness. Suddenly Fenris leaned in and locked lips with the bewildered mage. He used his hands to bring him closer.

Fenris put all his accumulated frustration from the past few days into the kiss, sucking Anders in. The mage melted into the strong arms around his waist and his neck. His own hands gripped weakly to Fenris.

When Fenris ended the long kiss and drew back, it took a moment for Anders to come back to himself. He didn't know what to say, so he said nothing. He didn't know what to do, so he did nothing. His questions were buzzing like crazy inside his skull.

'Despite this I seem unable to stop thinking about you.' His voice was soft and kind now, warming Anders to the bone. Fenris was still holding Anders close to him and looking deep into his golden eyes.

'If you have a problem with this speak now. If you don't…..' Fenris trailed off leaving Anders to figure out what he meant.

Anders caught his breath, repeating the words in his mind, making sure he heard right. The relief of not being hated by Fenris was so great it shocked him. His features softened in a smile and he let his gaze drift down for a moment.

'I want you too.'

Fenris caught Anders' chin softly between his fingers and lifted it so he could look straight into his eyes. He smirked, relishing the cute' flustered expression he was looking at. He brought him closer and kissed him passionately.

Anders responded happily by opening his mouth and allowing Fenris' tongue to enter it, moaning softly into the kiss. Fenris' hands tangled themselves in the mage's dirty blond hair, tugging softly causing just enough pain for Anders to moan again.

The desire was almost overwhelming. It took all of Fenris' control not to completely ravage Anders. Their kisses intensified, growing shorter but hungrier. They couldn't get enough. Reluctantly Fenris pulled away. He didn't want to force Anders and hurt him; too much.

But Anders had the opposite reaction he had expected. Instead of being grateful, he was furious. He grabbed Fenris by the collar and pulled him close. Fenris widened his eyes in surprise.

'What do you think you're doing? Don't treat me like a woman. I won't break that easily!' Fenris' confusion turned to a scowl.

Suddenly he pushed Anders towards the nearest door, tearing his clothes as he did so. Anders swallowed loudly, feeling the crawling sensation of anticipation on his skin. He also took this opportunity to discard any clothes still remaining on the two bodies.

It didn't take long before Anders couldn't go back anymore. He felt something hard pressed against his legs and with a sudden jolt he realized Fenris had led him into the bedroom and he was feeling the rigid bed frame against his skin.

Fenris had no intention of giving Anders any way out. His scorn deepened as he thought of what he was about to do. He pushed the mage on the bed roughly before positioning himself on top, taking up the kissing where they had left of.

He licked and sucked Anders' lips and skin as if he intended to eat him. The apostate kept making subdued noises of pleasure, and he exposed his neck allowing Fenris better access. Fenris didn't hold back; licking, kissing, biting, consuming.

Anders raised himself, in a sitting position, resting his back against the wall. Fenris pushed against him, almost immediately, making the bed post creek. Anders was almost crying for Fenris to hurry up. He moved his body against his, feeling the molten flesh caress his.

'Eager aren't you?'

Fenris smirked again, but he understood fully what the mage was going through. He wanted him just as badly. He pulled away from the delectable neck and brought his fingers to his mouth. Before he could place them inside, Anders stopped him.

'No. I don't care if it hurts. Just hurry up. I want you so bad….'

Fenris felt his eyes soften. It seemed like Isabela was right. He was indeed beginning to care for Anders. The more he saw the mage the more he wanted to protect him, to keep him safe. He was through trying to figure out why that was or trying to convince himself he actually hated him.

'Don't cry to me later.'

'Ha. You wish!'

Anything else he may have said was lost as Fenris pushed inside him. It was the most painful experience Anders had ever had. He choked on his own scream. His nails scraped angrily against Fenris' exposed back skin. His eyes were closed, and his expression looked pain-stricken.

Fenris wanted to stop after seeing Anders' reaction. He didn't move, allowing Anders to get used to the sensation. He desired to do nothing more than thrust into the hot, trembling body of the apostate but he didn't want to hurt him.

'Move….Now!'

All his worries of hurting Anders vanished, and his scowl returned. He chuckled to himself, remembering just how stubborn the mage was. Like he said before, he wasn't a woman. He wasn't fragile.

Each thrust was harsh and merciless, pushing Anders hard against the wall. After a while the repeated movement began to feel less and less painful and soon it became pleasurable. Fenris remembered how to get to the spot which made Anders go wild.

Anders' shrill screams changed to amorous moans. His fingers were already tangled in the snow-white hair and he pulled Fenris up for a passionate kiss. Fenris held Anders and drove into him forgetting everything but the insane pleasure he was feeling at the time.

A few more well aimed thrusts and Anders was at his limit. He came, tightening around Fenris, making him come as well. The bed stopped screeching as the two men fell on the bed exhausted, but happy. The room was enveloped in absolute silence.

'I'm spent…'

Anders' voice was drowsy and he looked like he was ready to fall into a deep, dreamless sleep. Fenris sat up on his elbow and looked at Anders like he had said something absurd.

'Spent? You don't believe that was the end do you?' Now it was Anders' turn to look at Fenris like he had ten heads. He also sat up so he could fully see Fenris.

'What do you mean?...' It was damn obvious what he meant but Anders had to ask.

'You didn't think I would be satisfied with that after all this waiting, do you?'

'Em…what?...' Fenris loved Anders' reddening expression. He thought it was cute.

'I won't let you get any sleep.'

And with that he was once more on top of Anders, kissing him with affection and stopping him from voicing his false protests. Anders knew this would be a long, long night.

* * *

It was late in the evening when Anders woke up. He couldn't remember the last time he slept in a soft bed and had felt so good. He knew it wasn't only due to the bed but also the elf sleeping beside him.

With a jolt he remembered Fenris was beside him and he snapped his eyes open. He raised himself on his elbows but Fenris wasn't sleeping. He was already awake and was watching Anders.

Inside, the mage held back a sigh of relief. A part of him was still afraid that the elf would just go away. That it had all been a nice dream and it was time to wake up in a world where Fenris still hated everything about him.

'How are you feeling?' The concern was plain in Fenris' tone.

'I'm fine. How long have you been awake?' Fenris deliberated as if not sure about the answer himself.

'Not that long.'

'Hmmm. What time is it?'

'It's around seven in the evening.'

'Evening?'

Anders couldn't believe his ears. How long had he slept? How long were they up last night? He lost count of how many times they had done it. Each time, even though he grew incredibly exhausted, the sex felt better and better.

'Oh no! I have to get to the clinic!' He sat up, but he did it too suddenly making his hips cry out in protest. He gasped at the sudden pain. In a flash he felt Fenris' arms around his shoulders pulling him gently back on the bed.

'Calm down. It's too late to go back now.'

'But-'

'No. The Templars might still be around Darktown and you're still tired. I'm not letting you go.'

Anders didn't say anything for a while. He just looked at Fenris who looked right back at him. The whole thing didn't feel real. It felt too good to be real.

'What if there are people injured? Or dying?' Anders was serious but he knew he wouldn't go that evening. Even if Fenris would let him, he didn't want to anymore.

'If it means that much to you, we'll go tomorrow morning.'

'We?'

'I'm coming with you. You'll need someone if the Templars are still looking.'

Anders found himself laughing, leaving Fenris to look at him in surprise and confusion. Had he said something funny?

'Sorry. I'm just surprised. I mean….you hate me.'

And here it was; the thing that had been nagging at Anders over and over ever since the first night. His smile was quickly fading, fear gripping him. He was afraid of Fenris' answer. In fact he would have been happier never asking but he knew he had to know even if it would break his heart.

His heart started beating frantically. Fenris wasn't saying anything. He just kept looking into Anders' eyes, his intense gaze burning into him. When he finally speak, his voice was serious but gentle.

'I hate magic. It destroyed everything I ever cared for and I'm not the only one who suffered because of it. I will never stop hating it, but I feel like you are different. Ever since I met Hawke I started seeing things through different eyes. I don't think I will ever be able to let go of this anger and hatred but…..I can't seem to bring myself to hate you anymore.'

Anders was dumbstruck. His voice just wouldn't come out. Had he heard right? He felt like asking Fenris to repeat that but he knew it wouldn't happen. Had Fenris just made a major confession to him? Was he asleep?

'And also…..' There was more? 'Ever since I saw the Templars the other evening I was wondering something. It isn't safe for you to keep living in Darktown. You should move.'

'I don't have anywhere else to go.' Anders managed to say but it was a little above a whisper.

'I know. I was hoping you would move here with me.'

Anders jaw must have dropped about eight feet. It was like he was seeing himself and Fenris from outside his body. Time was going very slowly, or maybe it had stopped altogether. Fenris didn't move an inch. He waited patiently for Anders to break the silence.

'Are…Are you serious? Me? Here?' Fenris smiled indulgently.

'Yes. I want you here beside me. I want to keep you safe. What do you say?'

'I…Yes. If you're serious. I mean-'

Fenris kissed him, relieved that he approved. It would be nice filling the rundown mansion with some life. It was way too big for him anyway. He felt Anders relax into the kiss. He knew it was the sleep taking over and he gently lowered Anders on the pillow again.

He watched him close his eyes slowly and his breath become even. The mage had been running on adrenaline and now the exhaustion was catching up to him. He let the full wave of fatigue wash over him and drifted off knowing that he was safe, surrounded by emerald forests.

* * *

**Thank you very much for the read! ^.^ I hope you enjoyed my ridiculously bad writing! And once more, please let me know what you though! There's never enough reviews...**


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